


Under Coveralls

by PhelfromGrace



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Puns, Denial of Feelings, Dress kink, F/M, Fluff, GingerRoseWeek2020 Day 3: Undercover, Humor, Mild Body Shaming, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Sexual innuendos, Wordplay is foreplay, bickering/banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhelfromGrace/pseuds/PhelfromGrace
Summary: Hux and Rose go undercover on a reconnaissance mission, in more ways than just one.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico
Comments: 15
Kudos: 59
Collections: GingerRoseWeek2020





	1. Chapter 1

The ship was approaching destination. The pilot droid wasn’t listening to him (one does not simply enter First Order territory through the front door unannounced, so to speak). And the only person who knew how to command this useless piece of junk was nowhere in sight.

Luckily for Hux, the ship was small with very little places to hide, even if she was equally small and could fit in said little spaces.

“Hiding in a hole, are we? Do you feel more at ease cloistered in the dark, nesting like the little rat that you are?”

“Yep, it’s great down here!” Rose yelled, voice muffled behind thick metal. “Hot and sticky, can’t breathe, just the way I like it. But you know what would make it a _whole_ lot better? If you’d shut your stinkin’ trap and let me work in peace! Bafflers need constant maintenance. If we’re spotted on those fancy First Order scopes that _you_ created, we’re toast. This ship has no cannons, remember?”

“Oh, I am well-aware. I am _baffled_ that this ship even flies.”

“Very punny, wisecrack!” Her voice grew louder, clearer. Then her face peeked out, rosy cheeks and sweat dripping from her brow. “I’m rubbing off onto you.”

She slid out from the confined space, revealing a tight white tank top and too much glistening skin. 

“ _Indecent_ woman.”

“That wasn’t an innuendo! I really meant, I’m influencing your—”

“Where are your coveralls?!”

“What?” She looked down at her chest. “Oh _grow up_ , beanstalk. It’s like 40 centigrade between that tight space. Give me a minute to cool off.”

His eyes narrowed as she bent over to lay down her tools and grab her water flask. She flipped it open and took a long swig. He watched the bob of her throat as she gulped and gulped, chest heaving and associated flesh, bouncing in time.

“Show off your generous assets tonight. They are the perfect distraction for the lechers of high society.”

“You _pervert!”_

“It’s for the mission!”

“Is this your twisted way of flirting?”

“Do not flatter yourself. Unlike you Resistance dogs, I was raised with standards.”

“Oh _kriff off!_ You think I want to be hit on by a gangly ill-proportioned beanstalk?”

“ _Ill-proportioned?”_ he sputtered, face now matching her flushed skin. “You are the one with, that has—your chest is _ill-logical!_ Why does it taper to such a small waist? There should be more mass to balance the top!”

“Small waist? Hux, in all seriousness, I’m not exactly the model of thin.”

He stared at her panting chest, rising and falling with the associated flesh, again bouncing in time. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tico, you’re giving me a headache. Truce?”

“Truce.”

**

Keeping a tidy appearance wasn’t a foreign concept to him, nor was styling hair, but if Hux was completely honest with himself (which he wasn’t), he would admit that touching Rose’s lush, dark hair was a pleasurable experience. Instead, he only complained to himself (and to her) how challenging it was to coif thick unruly strands into an acceptable bun— an absolute disobedient horror to work with, not unlike the woman herself.

“Stars, how can you be so good at this? Did you play with dolls as a child?”

“How did you guess?” he deadpanned. “Those child soldiers were certainly my dolls. Ordered them to do anything I wanted. Gouge out their eyeballs, break one another’s neck.”

“Why do I even try.”

Picking up the kit of cosmetics, Hux set to work on her face, not that she needed much coverage with her already pretty complexion (he was okay to admit that to himself, as it was a fact that she had nice skin despite the habitual engine grease and grime). 

“Okay, are you _sure_ you didn’t play with dolls?”

“Stop fidgeting,” he said, deeply concentrated on her lip line. “If you are so curious, I have seen women perform this one too many times as a child, as they hastened to look presentable after an audience with my father. They even painted _my_ face for their amusement. Never mind the humiliation, the lashing I received was unforgettable. My father seemed to believe that I enjoyed being their dress-up doll.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, choked with emotion. “My stupid big mouth, I shouldn’t have mentioned dolls.”

He knew that she was being genuine, that she meant the apology to the bottom of her big (foolish) heart. He had told her all about his father because she had a way of prying all sensitive information from him. She had her way with him, in many ways...

“Not to worry. I got my revenge. Tracked them down the moment I was in a position of power. I heard the undertaker did a fine job powdering their faces for the last time.”

“ _Armitage—”_ Rose implored but never finished her sentence. She was too distracted by the pretty face, _her_ pretty face that stared back at her in the mirror. “You know, in another life, I think you’d have made a great beautician. Or maybe it’s not too late in this lifetime. Settle down somewhere, open a salon, or a morgue if you prefer.”

“Get dressed, Rose. Make it quick.”

She complied and reached into the garment bag for their packed eveningwear. Then, she froze on spot. 

Hux leaned over her shoulder. “Need help with that, little doll?” 

“N-not at all!” She snapped back to life, clutching the dress and pushing him aside. Hux listened to her loud footfalls stomping towards the refresher, door swishing open and closed, followed by silence. A bemused smirk lifted his face, one that would surely piss her off had she seen him (a shame, really). He began counting down in his head.

At six point three, the door swished back open. “Dammit Hux, get in here and help me with this fastener!”

“Let me guess, your chest is too large that the dress cannot contain your overflowing, offensive, flesh.”

“Kriff off and get in here!”

He complied. Eager to show off his most charming smirk, he instead broke into a howl of laughter. Rose was trapped in the garment, arms clearly through the wrong hole, flustered and rosy like her name. But when her frustration culminated into a weep and the onset of tears, he quickly sobered and rushed to her side. He gently rearranged the dress into its correct orientation.

“This hole… goes _on the front?_ What kind of sick— Hux, you _pervert._ ”

“You think _I_ chose this attire? Blame your beloved Resistance. They packed the disguises, not I.”

“Urgh, that’s why Poe was grinning like a tooka before we left! Oh, I’m gonna _kill_ him. Tamper the hyperdrive of his X-wing, have it explode when he jumps. I’ll make sure BB-8 stays behind though. No need for senseless droid abuse.”

“Alas you prove to me why we make an excellent team. Now, take off your brassiere.”

“What?”

“It cannot be worn with this style. Do you want to rouse suspicion? To reveal your lowly status among the scrutiny of the elite?”

She turned around and violently unhooked her bra, throwing it to the ground like a petulant child. He ignored her anger. That bare back was quite the distraction, but he quickly drew the curtain to his inappropriate thoughts by closing the fastener and lacing up that complex corset with intricate knots. He smiled at the latticework, another fine job by his hand, then glanced down and his mood soured. “Underwear too.”

“Nice try, I’m not falling for it. The skirt is practically _sheer_ , Hux.”

“Precisely. I can see the sheared edges of your ratty boy shorts underneath. It won’t pass. If you wore clean neutral-tone undergarments like a civilized woman, we would not be in this predicament.”

“Fine! Undo this suffocating lacing or whatever you just did to my back.” 

He looked at her in horror. Those knots were beautiful and he wasn’t about to redo everything. “Slip it down your legs! You are wearing a skirt, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I can’t just slip out of it!”

“Why not?”

“There’s a _thing_ built-in there.” 

“What _thing._ ”

“It’s… two strings and a strand of beads in the center. If I take off my underwear, the beads will go straight into my—”

“Dameron is a dead man.”

**

Poe Dameron might have had a point. That vulgar hidden detail of the dress caused her skin to glow with warmth, alluring in both colour and demeanor; it rendered her quiet, so uncharacteristically quiet that it made Hux worry and feel things that he rather not admit feeling, thank you very much. 

“Chin up, Tico! And back straight. How many times must I remind you? You are going to break our cover.”

“I’m gonna break my neck if I don’t watch my step! These damn heels are too high, and I’m a little _compromised_ down there.”

“Take my arm for support.”

She glared at him through long dark lashes and a pout of red lips; sultry would be an accurate descriptor that would certainly puff her rage, heighten her rosy appearance. He buried the sound of his pounding heart with the symphony of crumbling durasteel and crackling flames of Dameron’s ship exploding in his mind. 

“The longer we linger, the greater the threat of exposure.”

“I can’t touch you,” she whined. “If I touch you, I might—” Her leg swung forth in a reckless stride to put more distance, but her heel didn’t land. Before she tripped, Hux caught her waist with one arm just in time. He drew her closer into his chest, against his better judgment or any judgment at all; his defenses, all cover, was broken. Locking her body into his, he embraced her in full public view but felt like they were the only two people in the gala hall.

She relaxed and looked up into his pale eyes.

“I thought you had standards,” she said.

“I already broke my oath to the First Order. I can afford another break.”

“First the puns, now a rebel? I really am rubbing off to you, I mean, onto you.”

Dameron be damned.

The mission be damned.

“Alas, you prove to me, once again, why we make an excellent team.”

He leaned down and captured those finely painted lips, unabashedly smearing rouge past the lines and ruining his work. Soft velvet from her gloved fingers tickled the back of his neck as she pulled him in, deepening the kiss, and ruffling his hair for no reason other than the desire to mess up every corner of his life.

Back in their hotel suite, he continued to undo more of his fine work—her tidy hair, the intricate knots that strapped her corseted flesh— they cascaded, dark locks to her shoulders and light chiffon pooling to the floor. He could finally admit: she was beautiful, that chest was only offensive because he wanted to touch it, he wanted it, all of her, and he liked her, maybe even loved her if she would let him explore the potential. 

He threw away gloves, jacket, cravat, dress tunic, trousers, down to underwear, and then nothing at all. His decision of turning spy and betraying the First Order, of throwing away his life’s work and everything he had ever known, he would do it all again for this glorious moment, of standing tall and erect before her, naked and free. They leapt into bed. 

They might have failed their undercover mission, but Hux and Rose felt like they won the war. They conquered the galaxy, under the covers.


	2. Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is how I envisioned their clothing to look like! Galactic fashion is so fun to draw. I definitely want to draw more. <3  
> Btw, my other entries for Gingerrose Week are posted on my [tumblr page](https://phelfromgrace.tumblr.com/). Happy Gingerrose Week!!


End file.
